Drop-Down Menu

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Well, dang girl, this is a week late. Apparently time just
keeps trucking whether I write your monthly letter or not. I don’t recall
approving that decision, but whatever. I GUESS.

This month you’ve just gotten bigger and happier and even more
in love with your sister, which I didn’t even think was possible.

You’re huge. You’re the chubbiest chub who ever chubbed,
with your rubber-band wrists and squishy thigh rolls and giant round cheeks and
dimples. I LOVE IT. It is literally
physically impossible not to nom on you. (If you’re reading this in, say, 10
years and you’re wondering what that means, it’s a…um…what is the expression
for this decade? Did we ever decide? The Naughts? The 20-10s? No? No idea. Anyway,
it’s a current-time thing that might not make sense to you in future-time and
means munch on.) Anyway. You’re just SO NOM-ABLE. And squishable. And loveable.
You feel so perfect in my arms (those rare times you let me actually cuddle you).
I know from experience that this chub-a-dub stage won’t last long – your sister
was totally chubtastic and slimmed down quite a bit when she started crawling
and walking – so I’m just making it my goal to squish you as much as possible
while I can. Also, P.S., Carys calls you “Chubs,” which is either totally
adorable or will totally mess you up later in life. Sorry about that!

You don’t care about anything except for BEING BIG (and
eating, but don’t we all). You want to be JUST like your big sister. You could
not give two ducks about those, psh, baby
toys. If your sister isn’t playing with
it, you don’t want anything to do with it. But if she IS playing with it, my
god, you want that thing more than anything in the world. You are constantly
reaching for whatever she’s playing with – and to give her credit, she’s very
good about sharing with you. Granted, she picks out her least favorite doll of
the bunch of dolls to give you, but at least she’s sharing. You want to be in
eyesight of her at all times if she’s awake. You will literally crane your neck
180 degrees to watch her if she’s behind you. You’re part owl or something, I don’t
know. And the laughs she elicits from
you? Giant, long, deep belly laughs. The rest of us get laughs, but she gets LAUGHS.
Underline/bold/italics/etc.

You aren't on a great routine yet - meaning I can usually mostly guess what time you'll be sleeping and what time you'll be awake and for how long, but it's not an exact science. You're still at the age where you'll fall asleep in your carseat or wherever we are, though, so I'm not pushing on onto you yet. We let Carys set her own routine by paying attention to her cues, and by the end of her first year she'd put herself on a routine that was exact down to the minute. So I'm hoping that you follow suit, because I don't really know how to set a routine. I prefer to let my kids just parent themselves (/sarcasm). Note to self, though: If you're fussy and I can't soothe you, you probably just want to be laid down to sleep and left the heck alone. You're not big on being rocked to sleep, which is both awesome and sad. I don't get to cuddle your relaxed, sleeping body very often since you prefer to be laid down awake and you'll fall asleep on your own. But on the other hand, hopefully I won't be crying in the middle of the night in a few months trying to get you to transfer from my arms to the crib successfully, which is what happened with your sister.

You’ve got blondish-brownish-(dare I say it)-reddish hair
that’s so light and fine, it can be hard to see. Little wisps all over your
head. You have brilliant, deep blue eyes. I constantly wonder what you’re going
to look like when you get older. Carys as a baby looks nothing like Carys as a
toddler, so I have absolutely no history to go off of here and cannot possibly
guess. But I’m excited for it.

You sit up really well. You can roll both front to back and
back to front (thank GOD, because for a while there you were only rolling back
to front and you really dislike being on your stomach and expressed this
discontent quite loudly whenever you found yourself on your stomach). You can
move around, though I’m not really sure how you do it. You start on one side of
the room and five minutes later, you’re on the other side, and I’m not really
sure how you did it.

Your hands are in your mouth ALL. THE. TIME. And if not your
hands, then a toy. And if not a toy, then my shirt. And if not my shirt, then
my hair. Anything that comes within reaching distance you instantly grab and it
goes directly in the mouth. I don’t think
you’re teething (I don’t see any white dots or feel anything, and Carys didn’t
get teeth ‘til around 9 months) but my god, you will have it and you will have
it in your mouth, thank you very much.

Because of the “chewing everything” thing and since you sit
pretty well and since I started Carys on solids (baby-led weaning style) when
she was about 5.5 months old, I thought I’d throw an avocado wedge your way and
see what you thought. Nope. Not ready yet. You sucked on that thing like it was
a bottle, then smashed it into the tray on your high chair and proceeded to
gnaw on your bib. You chewed that bib good, though. That bib had it coming.

You’re such a content baby. You don’t care who is holding
you (yet – separation anxiety is a’coming, I know) and as long as you’re part
of the action, you’re happy. SO happy. You love sitting in your high chair and
watching me (and usually Carys) while I cook. If anyone so much as glances at
you, they are rewarded with a huge smile and usually some excited kicks. When I
pick you up from daycare on Mondays and Tuesdays, I feel like I’ve won the
lottery or like I’m a celebrity or The Most Important Mom in the Universe after
your excited greeting. I’m pretty sure if you greeted Kim Jong-Un every
morning, he’d turn into a happy puppy cavorting in a field of daisies.

You’re (OMG AM I REALLY GOING TO TYPE THIS OUT KNOCK ON SO
MUCH WOOD) a really good sleeper. You’re not sleeping through the night, but
you go down by yourself, so I can lay you down mostly awake (with a swaddle and
paci, usually) and you’ll put yourself to sleep. Last night happened to be one
where you were awake for a while in the middle of the night (some infant dance
party at 3am or something? You have a better nightlife than me!) but usually
when you wake up, you’ll eat and go right back to sleep. Co-sleeping is a huge
reason for this, I think. Usually you start out in the crib, then you’ll wake
to eat, sleep with me for a couple hours, then I’ll put you back in the Rock N
Play, then rinse and repeat until morning. What am I going to do when you’re in
your crib all night? Who will keep me warm?

I say it constantly, but you’re such a perfect addition to
our family. I love how Carys has a deep need to know where you are at all times
(“Where’s baby Emmeline? She sleepin’?”) and I love watching your dad interact
with you and I love simply sitting with you and looking at you. If it’s just
you or Carys and the other one is gone or sleeping, I feel incomplete. Even if
you’re just two rooms away sleeping, it doesn’t feel right. It feels bizarrely
easy, for one thing, to have just one kid, but it also feels all wrong. We need
you.